I am Narcissa Malfoy
by itaje
Summary: A look into the mind of a Malfoy, arrogance and all. Mother of Draco, wife of Lucius and half Veela.


Disclaimer: Okay. The usual. The characters belong to JK Rowling. But this **portrayal **of Narcissa Malfoy belongs to me. Please don't sue, like most people around here, I'm broke.

I am Narcissa Malfoy. 

Malfoy, so smooth on the tongue, is it not? Spawning from the melding of two Latin words _maleficu _and _malefidus_, generally meaning wicked, accursed or faithless. 

There were times when there were whispers, rumours that we were the demon spawns of hell, Satan's own.

We hold to no faith. We believe in no religion. We are Malfoys, we are godlings by right of name. Arrogance is our virtue, pride, carved in our family crest.

_I_ am a Malfoy. 

~~

Veela do not carry sire names. Those names, that humans fight for and bleed for and struggle to keep pure. We are a sisterhood; those names mean nothing to us. Our names are unpronounceable by mere human tongues._ Killasimklihnogiul_, that was my name, a coarse translation from our Veela tongue. 

In English, it is gibberish. 

In Veela, it speaks of my linage, my birth, my future and my soul. 

~~

It is hardly uncommon for a Veela to marry a human. My great-great-great grandmother, twice renown, married a human. The only difficulty in such inter-creature marriages is the difficulty one mere human faces to constantly keep the attention of a Veela to himself. 

_We_ get bored easily.  

~~

I am not pure Veela. Strains of human blood, bred into me through the centuries have diluted Veela blood. But it is tradition, for any family that contains even a drop of Veela blood to send every one of their daughters to the Veela, to be tested and taught, if need be.  

But I am luckier than most. Much of my grandmother's blood bred true in me. Do not natter to me about the impossibility of this, or mutter about genetics. I have heard them all. They do not explain me.

On my eighth birthday, as declared by tradition, I was sent to the Veela. They were pleasantly surprised and adopted me into their sisterhood, naming me and freeing me from the constraints laid down by _civilised_ wizard life.  

I remained there for twelve years, before they told me that it was time for me to return to the human world, by right of human blood. 

Oh yes, I would still be a Veela in _spirit_, they assured me, it was just that half-blood Veela were not allowed remain in the sisterhood after the age of twenty. 

After all, tradition demands it so. 

~~

Veela were created by an infusion of Dark and Light Magic – by a certain wizard's dreams. The wizard's name is forgotten and is doomed to remain so until the end of time. He dreamt of women with of such stunning beauty that men would die for and gladly. He gave to them the gift of dance, of beauty, of magic and cursed them with the true form of a monster and the inability to return the love that anyone held for them. He created them to avenge a lover's betrayal, but fell in love with them anway. Betrayed by his own curse, he attacked them in a fit of madness. The Veela killed him, but as they felt grief from their creator's passing, they gave in to his last wish: to die in their arms.  

How romantic, you may say. But truly it is not. Angered by his curse, the Veela cut his heart out and ate it before reverting to their true from and tearing his body apart. This is why tradition demands that every year there must be a ritual – nicknamed A Wizard's Folly, in which all pure Veela of age twenty will revert back to their true form and go on a hunt. The unfortunate wizard will suffer the same fate as their creator did. 

This was why I was told to leave. Half-Veela are not affected by this curse. Should they remain on Veela territory after the age of twenty, they too, will be killed during the hunt.

I did not protest, tears of course, were pointless. Veela _in spirit_ or no, we do not cry, we do not engage in hysterics. We accept, and then make the best out of it. 

At least, I intended to.

~~

I returned to my family. Of course, they greeted me with open arms. Oh could they not, after all? I, in my prime, my half-Veela beauty fresh and stirring like the summer breeze. 

A most lovely pawn in the bid for wider family connections. 

And I totally agreed with them. What is beauty, but a tool to further one's ambitions?

~~

Months later, after countless of marriage proposals, I found one that suited my taste. One from the Malfoys, requesting a suitable match with their only son, Lucius. Their family was one of the most powerful in Britain – the main hub of wizarding activity. I could go far very with the name Malfoy behind me. Our family held court in France but Britain was the stronghold of the Malfoys. An alliance between the two powerful families, surely it was a match made in Heaven. 

We agreed to meet them in Germany. We would not go to Britain; they would not come to France. Neither party would lower themselves to that extent. 

Our first meeting with them went well. Nothing could possibly go wrong with a little Veela charms here and there.

They were suitably charmed – a pun, indulge me. 

Of course, they knew about my Veela heritage and were, delighted. A Veela was always useful in business ventures – they _always_ distracted the guests at such timely moments.  

~~

The marriage was soon underway. Lucius and I had met each other only twice but were appropriately satisfied with each other. 

He was, I discovered to my delight, ambitious, ruthless, intelligent and most of all, willing to let me _participate_ in his business and social events. That was all I needed – a good suitable partner who knew his business.

~~

The first few years of our marriage were generally calm and very successful. The Malfoy name scaled new heights – successful business ventures in Portugal, Germany, Italy, Romania and even Turkey.  We held exclusive shares and holdings in DragonsRes, an extremely successful company based in Romania, researching in the developments and usefulness of Dragons. We appeared in front of business magazines, newspapers and columns – both muggle and wizard ones. Despite the current dark times and unstable economy, our assets grew and expanded. 

Of course, it was not without whispers of a coming evil, a human – a Dark wizard called Voldemort. The Dark Ages, as I like to term it, was dawning near and the Malfoys would be in the thick of it.

~~

I was more advanced than Lucius when it came in terms of magic thanks to my Veela heritage, but he was the master of the exploitation human society, politics and subtlety. 

During the Dark Ages, it was our mastery made us very useful tools to the human Voldemort. I was expecting _him_ to come to _us_, to approach us with his offer of alliance. I was very disappointed when I saw Lucius apparating back one night, staggering and clutching to that hideous mark on his arm.

He refused to answer any questions on that night and I let him be. After all, if he wanted to go and brand himself (with such an ugly mark too), it was his choice. 

I would not be branded.

And so we came to an agreement, Voldemort and I. There would be no brand for me.

~~

The Dark Ages was a period in which I truly enjoyed myself. The thrill of blood and the engineering of the subsequent near-collapse and almost-total corruption of the Ministry gave me a heady sense of victory and power. Methodically, we took apart and destroyed almost any government or political body that stood in the way of Voldemort's rise for power. 

Their eventual recovery was slow. _I_ made sure of it.  

~~

He renamed me one day. This dark lord, as he called himself, this _Voldemort_. He meant it half in jest, half in threat. I remember that day clearly for it was the last day of his supposed reign. His power was slipping – no human could maintain that for long and his mistakes were growing more careless by the hour. Both of us, Lucius and I had already started preparing for the day when Voldemort fell.

He had called both of us for a meeting, informing us that _he_ was going to lead a key attack on the Potter's place – the Potter's who were part of Dumbledore's last line of defense against him. Before we left, I knew that we were slowly outliving our usefulness. 

He had me stay back and said, " Have you heard of the Mirror of Erised – the one that can drive a man to madness? How very like it, you are! Then there is this Greek legend, I believe, of the youth Narkissos, who fell in love with his reflection and stared at it so long, such that eventually he died. He was turned into a narcissus flower. _Let us hope that your beauty will not be the cause of your death_…Narkissos…Narcissa...such a nice ring to it, isn't there?"

He then dismissed me, that fool of a man, with the name Narcissa ringing in my mind.   

He was defeated twenty-four hours later.

~~

I changed my name the next day to Narcissa. 

Perhaps it was to gloat over his demise.

Perhaps it was to make a point.

~~

Author's Note: Do you like it/ hate it? Please Review. Need reviews. Reviews are my lifeline. 


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